Wrapper: Corojo
Binder: Piloto Cubano, Sumatra
Filler: Piloto Cubano, Criollo ’98, Corojo, San Vicente, Habano ’92, Nicaraguan
Size: Toro (6 x 52)
Strength: Medium → Medium-Plus (final inch)
Body: Medium-Plus
Price: $14.00
Factory: Not specified
Blender: Chris Moore
Release: Not specified
Smoking Time: 2 hours, 10 minutes
Experience Rating: 98
I discovered Carolina Blue Cigars after Chris Moore replied to a comment I made on Instagram. That sent me looking into his company, and what I found was intriguing enough to place an order.
I’ll admit that I tend to be a little wary of veteran-owned cigar brands. Nothing against the veterans. It’s just that a lot of the brands I’ve encountered seem to be selling white-labeled cigars, and I’m interested in the person developing the blend. Chris has been around tobacco for a long time, and his involvement in developing his cigars gave me a reason to try them.
Then there’s the Nine Corojo itself. Who puts nine different tobacco leaves into a blend? That’s where the artistry comes in. With that many components, I could imagine everything getting lost in a mush of competing flavors. Getting them to work together, with enough room for their individual contributions to register, takes some doing. Fortunately, that’s what I found here.
The Nine Corojo is beautifully rolled, with no prominent veins, a neatly applied triple cap, and an oily Corojo wrapper that approaches Rosado in color. There’s some slight mottling, something I tend to associate with well-fermented, aged tobacco. With six-year-aged tobacco in this blend, the appearance doesn’t surprise me.
The wrapper smells like fresh-baked sourdough with a deep tobacco sweetness underneath. At the foot, floral and citrus sweetness join that gorgeous bread aroma. The cold draw carries the same sour, tangy character, along with a richness that makes me eager to light up. Resistance is absolutely perfect.
The first puff delivers light coffee, fresh-cut cedar, baking spices, and fresh-baked bread. Simply lovely. Those flavors establish themselves immediately, becoming clear and pronounced as a light Corojo spice moves toward the roof of my mouth. There’s already a sense of space around them.
I appreciate a cigar that gets its act together right away.
Barely half an inch in, the Nine Corojo has planted its stake in the ground. Cream begins to encircle the profile, defining a roomy space that’s quickly filling with freshly tanned leather, earth, oak, citrus, and cinnamon. An ambient sweetness hangs on the finish, while a slight retrohale reveals malt, nougat, and vanilla crème.
A lot is happening, and I haven’t finished the first inch. But I can follow it, and I’m already feeling a connection to the cigar. The structure I associate with the Corojo and Nicaraguan tobacco gives the other components room to play. Their interplay has a visceral energy, a sense of movement that makes the blend feel playful even as its sophistication becomes apparent. Near the end of the first inch, roasted nuts arrive in succession: hazelnut, cashew, almond, then peanut.
As I get underway in the first half, even the core flavors begin to shift in emphasis. The profile can be soft and delicate, then become pronounced and energetic, then turn rich, thick, and creamy. I can’t quite anticipate what the next few puffs will feel like, which is a large part of its appeal.
Body settles at medium-plus, with a silky texture that feels like wrapping a silk scarf around my neck. Strength is a comfortable medium. A slight retrohale brings the bready, malty character into sharper focus, providing a nice punctuation mark on the smoke. I let only a small amount into my nostrils, but it adds enough that I keep coming back.
The spice settles on my tongue. It remains light, yet its presence is pervasive, pulling outward against the cream that surrounds the profile. That interaction supplies another source of energy. By the close of the first third, a pronounced fruit sweetness appears on the finish. It’s bright, crisp stone fruit, like biting into a fresh nectarine.
What really catches my attention is the role of coffee. Bread, cedar, malt, and baking spices carry the core, while coffee stays underneath them. Yet I can feel how much it contributes. There’s a gravity to it that holds the other flavors in place as they move. It may be playing a supporting role, but it’s doing critical structural work.
There’s a real feminine quality about the smoke. It’s not soft and delicate, but there’s nothing muscular and masculine about it.
It brings Rebecca Ferguson to mind. I’m thinking particularly of Lady Jessica in Dune and Ilsa Faust in Mission: Impossible. There’s beauty and composure in both characters, along with layers that suggest much more going on beneath the surface. You can watch them closely and still be surprised. I’m getting that same feeling here, and I want to keep discovering what else the cigar has to offer.
By halfway, the profile feels complete. Everything has found its place; there are no sharp edges, and the components work together seamlessly. The unpredictable complexity continues, but I’m losing interest in naming every flavor that passes through. I’m still evaluating the cigar, but I’m just content to sit with it and let the experience unfold.
It’s magnificent.
That feminine quality stays with me as I enter the home stretch. There’s a subtle gravity to the cigar, an attraction that keeps drawing my attention back even when I’ve relaxed into it. It reminds me of being with someone for a long time, comfortable enough to give each other space while still feeling that constant pull toward one another. Familiarity doesn’t exhaust the desire to keep discovering them.
As the second third comes to a close, the smoke grows creamier, and the spice begins making tiny pinpricks all over my mouth. Its intensity hasn’t increased. It’s still light, but now it’s dancing everywhere. I love that energy. The profile feels settled, and I’m completely satisfied, yet the shifting flavors continue to give me something to notice.
I feel like I’m taking a long drive with my wife. After thirty-three years of marriage and eight kids, we don’t need to fill the car with conversation. We’re comfortable in each other’s company. One of us might point out something interesting along the way, or bring up a memory, and then we settle back into the drive. That’s how I’m smoking the Nine Corojo now. Every so often something catches my attention, and I appreciate it before settling back into the experience.
With a couple of inches remaining, I make my first burn correction. The line is threatening to get angular, though until now it’s been straight apart from the occasional waviness I expect when smoking outside. This is a real slow roller, too. There’s plenty of time to get comfortable with it.
A darker transition finally develops.
Coffee becomes more pronounced, with the thick richness and nutty, fruity character I associate with Sumatran coffee. It’s still supporting the profile, but I can taste more of what it’s contributing. Cardamom comes forward among the baking spices, rosemary adds an herbal note, the cedar takes on a light char, and the bread turns to toast.
The velocity feels slower, though there’s still plenty of momentum. It reminds me of coasting down the back side of the Grapevine on Interstate 5, heading into Southern California. If you know that stretch before Valencia, you’ll know the feeling. I’m easing off and letting the descent carry me.
Nicotine finally steps up in the last inch, bringing strength to medium-plus. The movement among the secondary flavors has stopped, though the spice continues its random dance around my mouth. What remains is simply delicious: charred cedar, bread, and baking spices held together by that thick, rich coffee. Bready, fruity, and nutty flavors fill the secondary layer, with floral sweetness lifting the finish. The whole thing is wrapped in a gorgeous, viscous creaminess.
A slight retrohale brings out citrus candy, specifically the Perle di Sole Italian candies I’ve recently started keeping around. You’ve gotta try these. I’m usually not much of a hard-candy guy, but their lemon and blood orange candies are the best I’ve ever had. I picked up a couple of small bags to help reset my senses after a smoke.
At the nub, the core flavors are very pronounced, balanced by the fruitiness that remains around them. I’m thoroughly enjoying this, and I’m happy to sit with it right to the end.
Afterward, I pop one of the orange candies into my mouth. That first combination of citrus and the lingering cigar flavors is incredible. It’s hard to describe exactly what happens, but it puts a wonderful punctuation mark on the experience.
I love stumbling upon a brand I haven’t encountered before. There’s always a little of Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates in it. You never know what you’re going to get. But Chris Moore has been making cigars for a long time, and my first experience with his work leaves me with a clear sense of the intention and artistry he brings to a blend.
I’m looking forward to smoking the rest of what I ordered. If they show the same kind of intent as the Nine Corojo, I’m in for a treat.
You can buy these directly from Chris @ Carolina Blue Cigars. Click on the Submit Order button at the top right. Choose the cigar you want, then select the quantity, and Chris will email you a payable invoice. For other blends, you can try Black Box Cigars. They don’t carry the Corojo, but they have other blends available.
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